


Christmas: Code Gemini

by Wheresthetime



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bobby as Santa Claus, Canon-Typical Violence, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Party, Christmas Smut, Crowley as Krampus, F/M, Inappropriate Use of Holiday Words, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Krampus - Freeform, Nightmares, Protective Dean Winchester, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Sam and Dean as Buddy the Elf, Saturnalia, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Winchester Feels, trust me on that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 04:28:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13116024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wheresthetime/pseuds/Wheresthetime
Summary: A 2017 #SPNXmas gift for Mystrye! Hope you like it!Whether you believe in nature or nurture the fact remains a house either gets a visit from Santa or Krampus, but when one child is bad enough to warrant Krampus while the other deserves Santa you get a code Gemini. Jovie is a fairy responsible for keeping kids asleep for Santa's visit, a tricky thing to do when the hell hounds want to eat you. Jovie doesn't think her ex (Krampus) would let that happen, but thankfully Santa is sending bodyguards along with her: Santa's very own adoptive sons: the Winchester brothers. Spending lots of time with Dean before hand is just smart. It's nothing more than good planning...right?A mixed up fic where Bobby is Santa, Crowley is Krampus, the norse gods exist, and Castiel has to take part in a nativity play, whether he wants to or not.





	Christmas: Code Gemini

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mystrye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystrye/gifts).



There is a special place in Hell for people with overcomplicated drink orders, I think as I race down the hall. My pocket watch chimes alerting me in the first few bars of “Hark the Herald Angels Sing,” that if I don’t move my wings, I’ll be late for the most important meeting of the year.

I make a mental note to change my ring tone before Gabriel hears it.

“Oh, sugar snap!” I snarl as my perfectly normal, efficiently made cinnamon latte splashes across my wrist.

“Hey, watch it!” snaps an elf as I brush past. I’m not sure who it is, but I really don’t care. I’m going to be late, and that is not a possibility. Not today, Satan!

I skid past elves like it’s a North Pole slalom run and barrel my way to the Peppermint Room, this year’s meeting location. There are guards at the door, big burley yetis that make me sneeze as I burst through the door.

“Woah there. Santa’s not even here yet.”

“Oh, thank goodness for that!” I smile at Jody who’s leaning casually against the wall. Jody is the North Pole’s head detective, internal matters only of course. “Merry, Merry Jody! I thought I was going to be late.”

“Merry, Merry Jovie,” Jody looks at her watch and raises an eyebrow. “Technically you _are_ late. You’re just not latest.”

“Eh, good enough,” I wink, and Jody laughs. It always feels like bonus points when I can make the stoic detective laugh, and my wings flutter happily.

Surveying the room, I see a lot of the expected big wigs. Frigga is here with her attendants as is Saturn, who is looking even more surly than normal this year. There is Garth, head of toy development, with a sock on his hand looking very pleased with everything. Gabriel is off to the side with a trench coat wearing angel I don’t recognize. He has the most put-upon face I’ve ever seen, and after spending a lot of time with Gabriel myself, I can commiserate.

There are heads of accounting and social media, wrapping, décor, spirit leaders and Adam, the head scout elf. The scout elf division is still fairly new, and Adam always has a bit of a chip on his shoulder like he has to prove his worth. Considering the smug expression on the head of surveillance I think there’s something up. Maybe Adam should be worried.

All the big players are here. All of them, except the big man himself: Santa. But that’s not all. I scan the room again, but I know it will do no good. If he were here it would be obvious. Crowley is missing.

Not that I miss Crowley.

The room is brighter without him, festive and sweet smelling. All that will change when he comes in. Still, the idea that Santa and Crowley are meeting before the big meeting takes place? I don’t like it.

Jody nudges me with her elbow and indicates the long table in the center of the room. I nod, and we take seats. Might as well make ourselves comfortable. There are cookies in the middle of the table and I grab a few, hoping to eat them before Crowley and his cohorts come in and make them taste vaguely like sulfur. Butter and sugar melt on my tongue and now that I’m where I’m supposed to be, I let my body melt in relaxation.

The room is filled with the sounds of chatter, both low rumbles and high titters, and there is an air of contentment and excitement. It’s twelve days till Christmas, and we are ready.

“So I told the jerk, why don’t you take that extra cookie nonsense, and I’ll shove it right up your ass,” Jody says.

“No!” I gasp. “What did he say? What did _she_ say?”

“She was pissed, actually,” Jody laughs. It relaxes into a soft smile, while her gaze follows her fingers playing with her coffee cup.

“Oh, you are smitten,” I tease. “But seriously, everyone named Doug is an asshole. It’s in the rules or something.”

“That must be it,” she says. “And I’m not smitten. This is just what impressed looks like.”

“Ok,” I say, simply.

And wait.

It only takes fairies two seconds to begin to fill the void, but Jody is human and patient, so we sit without speaking for a good five seconds.

“Shut up,” Jody mutters.

Before I can tease any further the door across from us opens. Santa walks in wearing a ratty red and white trucker hat. He only begrudgingly wears the formal version on Christmas Eve when he’s doing his thing. He runs his hand through his beard in irritation. He’s flanked by two guards, but they’re not yetis. They’re human, tall, broad and dressed in plaid. No way…

He’s flanked by the Winchesters!

I’ve never seen them this close. Besides Jody and Santa himself, the Winchester brothers are the only humans at the Pole. I sit a little straighter and lean forward. I can’t help but want to get a good look at Santa’s adopted children.

It was years ago when it happened. Their no good bum of a father had dragged them into the mountains of Alaska to hunt what he thought was a werewolf. Of course Garmr is no werewolf. He’s guardian of Hel’s Gate, and much too powerful to be destroyed by a simple human. Every time John Winchester shot the massive wolf with silver, Garmr simply healed, borrowing power from Hel herself. It didn’t take long for the human to be ripped to pieces.

I’d feel worse about anyone suffering such a fate, but Garmr is a sweetheart, and I can’t help but side with the sweet puppy. Especially given what the boys went through while the father pursued his folly.

The brothers were left alone and hungry, even before John died. The heat was barely functioning, and the money was gone. When Santa stopped at the old motel, nine-year old Dean Winchester was waiting, awake and sitting at the desk chair.

“How about a lift?”

How he was still awake was a matter for great study in our division. We had never seen a charm protecting against Sugar Plum Fairies before. Apparently he had designed it himself, figuring more about Santa lore than any other human to my knowledge. I still have the amulet hanging in my office.

With no family to bring the boys to, Santa brought them to the Pole for the night. One night turned into two, turned into twenty, turned into a year. When the sleigh took flight that next Christmas, Sam and Dean were tucked into beds, nice and cozy in Santa’s own house. Santa never talked of having those idgits leave again.

I had seen the brothers when Santa had come home that first night, Dean had looked at the Pole with a stange mixture of defiance and awe. Sam had been asleep, and though his feet dangled past his older brother’s knees, Dean carried him the entire way.

For some reason the image of children always came to mind when I did happen to think of the Winchesters. That’ll happen when you live thousands of year. A decade or two doesn’t mean much. But they are definitely not children anymore. Both of them tower over Santa, and damn…I want to climb them like a tree.

I may not have seen them in years, but I would recognize Dean anywhere. He still has those eyes. Still defiant, as if someone would challenge his presence here, but in a room full of Christmas’ major players, there is still that sense of awe and wonder.

It’s remarkably endearing.

Sam looks around the room in unabashed curiosity, and I smile as his eyes connect with mine. I nod in greeting, and he returns the gesture before waving outright to Jody.

“You know them?” I whisper.

“Us humans have to stick together,” whispers Jody.

I’m dying to ask more, but then Dean’s eyes find mine, and my brain melts. It happens so fast I’d have thought it was a compulsion if I didn’t know for a fact he’s human.

And then it really doesn’t matter because Crowley enters the room.

Like Santa, he’s in civilian clothes. A black suit and tie, black wool overcoat, and a red flower on his lapel. Shadows slither along the walls, and the light seems to dim as he enters. Hard to believe I used to find that entrance hot. A few hundred years later, and it really does just seem like a cheap parlor trick.

Santa takes a seat at the table and gestures the boys to chairs along the wall. They both send wary eyes towards the companions that trail Crowley. In fairness most of us do as well. Meg and Ruby are hard to adjust to. Their forms constantly shift and change, and what details there are are lost in perpetual darkness. A glint of red nails, a flash of eyes, a wry smile. They’re just impressions. Never something you can look directly at.

I shudder, and my wings clatter softly. It would be embarrassing, but the slight noise is impossible to hear over the whimpering and cries of distress from some of the more sensitive ones in our company. Garth hides his sock under his arm. Crowley smirks but doesn’t say anything as he too takes a seat.

For a few more seconds Crowley and his cohorts control the attention of the room, but Meg and Ruby slide back against the wall and their forms blend more fully into the darkness Crowley has brought in. I’m not sure it’s better. I can still feel their eyes, and the fact that they are out of view just makes it seem as if the walls are watching. I relax and sip my coffee in practiced nonchalance as Crowley looks directly at me.

“Alright, enough of that,” admonishes Santa, and the whimpering stops. “We’re in the twelve days, let’s just update this stuff and get back to work.”

Santa hates these meetings.

Unfortunately they really are necessary, and since Santa refuses to take ownership for them we just sit awkwardly until someone decided to go first.

“Alrighty then,” says Gabriel, and I am very much not surprised that he breaks the silence.

I often tease Gabriel that he has the patience of a fairy, and I've asked if he’s absolutely positive he’s really an angel. “How about you inspect my wings a little closer and decide for yourself,” he replies with a waggle of his eyebrows. I always decline.

“Heaven is A-OK with the status of all things,” Gabriel says. “So keep doing what you’re doing. Oh, and Cassie here has volunteered for this year's Nativity play.”

“Castiel. And I didn’t volunteer,” says the trench coat wearing angel. “You said it was my turn.”

“It is your turn, and you graciously volunteered to take it.”

“No, you said if I didn’t do it you would make me help the cherubs with Valentine’s Day.”

“Yes, and then you volunteered for the nativity.”

“I did not volunteer. Volunteering implies—”

“Cherubs!” snaps Gabriel, pointing a finger into Castiel’s face.

Castiel slumps in his chair in defeat, and a snicker makes my head snap up. I lock eyes with Dean, and there is mirth crinkling his eyes even as his mouth remains neutral. He winks, and my wings flutter madly while a blush makes my cheeks burn. I have never wanted to lick another person more in my life. Crowley makes a disgusted sound, and I force my wings to stop their embarrassing display of ridiculousness. At least Dean’s not a fairy. My wings are not being subtle right now.

“I don’t like it when they hug me,” mutters Castiel.

“No one likes it,” says Gabriel.

“Ok, so Castiel is doing the nativity. Anything else from you guys?” asks Santa, trying to stear the meeting back on course.

“Nothing else. Keep up the good work!” Gabriel gives two thumbs up.

After Gabriel has opened the flood gates, all of the division heads give their updates without too much delay. We’ve worked really hard this year, and we are in fantastic shape. Here at the Pole our lives are all about Christmas and that joy makes it very easy to ignore Crowley and the faint smell of sulfur in the air.

“It’s not a Christmas tree!” snaps Saturn. He jumps to his feet and overturns his chair.

“I mean…the Saturnalia trees,” squeeks Gilda. “Are in good health and will remain beautiful throughout the season. We’ve really made progress against plastic Christmas…uh Saturnalia trees.”

“Does it matter what we call them?” mutters Santa.

Santa must be having a bad day because he should really know better to say something like that in this room in front of an angry Saturn.

Christmas is big business. Not just for shops and makers, but for the supernatural world as well. Belief and worship are power, and power is the currency of the mystical world. Christmas is such an amalgamation of belief systems, and for some of the old gods the only worship they still receive are mixed up traditions. It doesn’t seem like much to call it a Christmas Tree, since that’s what all the humans call it, but Saturn does have a point.

“Yes, it matters! They were used in worship of me, for me, long before any of this Christmas nonsense. Just you wait. Oh, yes it’s all about _Christmas_ now, wait till it’s not,” snarls Saturn.

“Well, when that time comes, we’ll deal with it,” says Santa, rolling his eyes. “Can we just call them evergreens? Is that _acceptable_ to all parties?”

Frigga fixes Saturn’s chair and pats him on the shoulder.

“The…um…mistletoe,” Gilda looks nervously between Frigga, Saturn and Santa. “The tradition continues, but they keep using more and more plastic mistletoe instead of the real thing.”

Frigga chokes on a sob, and Santa mutters something inappropriate, before rubbing his forehead.

“Can we can the theatrics, please?” asks Crowley. “This will take forever if we have to stop for everyone’s pathetic backstory. Frigga dear, the mortals are still kissing under the mistletoe for your boy. They may not know why they’re doing it, but they’re doing it. Really, darling it was so long ago.”

“He was my son,” snarls Frigga. “He deserves better than plastic!”

“Gilda,” interrupts Santa. “You’re working on pushing the real stuff? You know the power differential’s different.”

“Yes, Santa,” says Gilda. “We’re pushing the same type of campaign we used for real trees. We’ve stabilized the numbers, by next year we’ll have real mistletoe in more use with the custom emphasized. You should feel much better next year, Frigga.”

“Excellent, moving on,” says Santa. “Adam, how’s that scout elf thing going.”

“Going well, Santa,” starts Adam, but before he can continue Frank, head of surveillance, interrupts.

“The kids already believe Santa is watching, and we have the capability to do so without wasting elf resources,” says Frank.

“The kids love seeing the elves in their homes, increasing holiday spirit. When spirit goes up, power goes up!” argues Adam.

“Which is immediately reduced by the aggravation from the parents!” Frank retorts.

“Enough!” snaps Santa. “Jovie. Update.”

I’m so startled by the snap command, that it takes me a moment to organize my thoughts. I look up into Crowley’s unreadable face, which doesn’t help. I shift my gaze and am met with twin Winchester gazes. That doesn’t help either. Sam looks fascinated by all of this, but the longer I stay shell-shocked the more he frowns in concern. Dean smiles and tilts his head in a gesture clearly indicating that he’s waiting to hear what I have to say.

It’s not till Jody taps my foot that I remember everything I’m supposed to say.

“Oh, yes. We’re ready to go actually. We’ve gone to rest mode right now before the big night. All my fairies are on leave to make sure their powers are full by showtime. We do have one alteration. I will be taking a route myself to cover for Amelia who is out on maternity leave. She had a little girl. Claire. She’s adorable!”

“Oh, how wonderful!” Garth says. “I love babies.”

Dean and I share a grin over the excited chatter that is filling the room. Why do my eyes keep going towards him? Stop it, Jovie. Stop it. You are a thousand years older than he is.

The meeting proceeds smoothly after this and before long the old gods have left, and the locals are all packing their stuff away and making plans to meet up.

“Jovie,” calls Santa. “One moment please.”

Jody pats me on the arm as she passes, and I wait as the room clears out. I’m not sure if I should sit or not so I just stand awkwardly. I immediately wonder if I’m in trouble, but there’s no reason I would be so I ignore that. I am excellent at my job, and I tripled check everything before even coming to this meeting.

“Hello, darling,” Crowley says. My wings flare in surprise.

“Crowley,” I growl.

“Please, call me Krampus. Tis the season and all, even without the dramatics.”

“Merry, merry _Crowley_ ,” I say sweetly.

“Is he bothering you?”

We both turn, and I’m met with the absolute mouth watering visage of Dean Winchester. Holy night, he is even better looking this close! He has a spattering of freckles across perfect skin. There’s the hint of scruff along his jaw, which is clenched. His green eyes glare at Crowley, and there is the slightest curl of disgust on his lip.

It’s ridiculously hot.

And, sweet baby Jesus, he smells good too. I want to lean in and bury my face in his neck to drown out the smell of sulfur and replace it with all things Dean.

When was the last time I had sex? This suddenly seems extremely important.

“Just chatting, squirrel,” Crowley says. “Jovie and I go way back.”

Before either of us can respond, Santa joins the conversation. “Have a seat.”

Sam sits next to Santa on one side of the table, while Dean settles in, much to my chagrin, right next to me on the other side. Crowley takes the head of the table, of course. Meg and Ruby flank him so it appears that he’s backed in smoke and flame. He lives for this type of dramatic even without his Krampus attire.

“Should I tell her?” asks Crowley, steepling his fingers beneath his chin.

“We have a code Gemini,” says Santa, and I thank the stars that I had finished my coffee before the meeting even finished or I would be spit-taking all over the table. “I’m not comfortable with a Sugar Plum Fairy going in to the same home as hell hounds without protection.”

A code Gemini was so rare it had only happened a handful of times over my years. Whether you believe it to be nature or nurture it was rare to have a household where one child was so bad as to warrant the attention of Krampus while the other was to be visited by Santa. Krampus visited so few children as it was, it took more than a bit of normal child brattiness to deserve it. But to have him attend a child with a good sibling? Rare. And tricky, because Hell Hounds loved Sugar Plum Fairies. I don’t think Crowley would let them eat me, but accidents happen.

“So what do you propose?” I ask.

“I’d like you to make sure the fairy you assign is the best you’ve got, and I’ll be sending the boys in for back-up, just to make sure everything runs smoothly.”

“We’ll make sure the puppies play nice,” Dean says.

“I’ve found some spells and charms that will work well,” Sam says. “We should be able to do this without any danger. I promise your fairy will be safe.”

“Wouldn’t dream of letting anything happening,” purrs Crowley. “No need to send the children.”

“We’ve discussed this,” Santa says.

Crowley waves his hand magnanimously.

Santa slides me a file and before I even look at the address I know I need to be the one to do this. I admit, I’ve missed being in the field, and I’ve really been looking forward to taking the flight this Christmas, but even despite the unquestionable excitement to being involved in a code Gemini, especially when the bodyguards are the delectable Winchester brothers, I know that I can’t leave this up to any of my fairies regardless. As sincere as Sam is, and with what little faith I still have in Crowley, I can’t promise that nothing will go wrong. If anyone is going to take the chance it will be me.

“I’ll do it,” I say. “I’ll have to reroute a few or at least swap with a route that coincides. I’ll make it work.”

“Good,” says Santa, standing up. “I want you to work closely with Sam and Dean over the next few days so you have a solid plan, with back-up plans in place, and back-ups for those. Crowley, just control your hounds and keep it simple.”

“Of course,” Crowley says, rising as well. “Pleasure to see you again, Jovie. And please, feel free to contact me as well. Can’t hurt to be too prepared. We could discuss it privately, over dinner?”

“Just do your job, Crowley,” says Dean, angling himself so he’s even further in front of me. I’m ridiculously pleased by this. I try to control my wings. Really I do. “We’ll make sure we’re ready.”

Crowley glares and Ruby and Meg move in closer, but Santa clears his throat and Crowley’s face smooths. Without another word, Crowley and his girls are gone. The room is noticeably brighter.

“Alright, we good?” asks Santa.

“We’re good,” says Dean. “Stop worrying. We got this.”

~***~

“Wow, this is…” Sam is stunned in my office and clearly trying to be polite, but I’m not sure why. I mean, I have a few piles of paper, but it’s really quite tidy. Dean is grinning outright and while that is stunning to see, I’m fairly confused by the reaction.

I look at my office as if I were a stranger to see if I’ve missed some disaster I’ve just gotten used to. Twinkle lights glisten across the cathedral ceiling. Bookshelves on two walls run from floor to ceiling filled with books of every color. A third wall has shelves lined with ingredients and magical items. The fourth houses my desk, white and sparkly.

There are a few stacks of paper aligned perfectly so the candy cane stripes of the border are visible. Garland decorates the front, and the red and green tinsel sparkle when it catches the light. My teal computer case glows faintly. I sniff. The office smells perfectly like a blend of gingerbread and sugar cookie. Unless there’s some weird smell I’ve gotten used to, and I did just get away from Crowley, but the trash can is empty and the white wood floor gleams from recent mopping. They’re so clean the glitter in the top coat is clearly visible.

I give up.

“Is there a problem?” I ask.

“This is awesome,” Dean says.

“Thank you?” I ask.

“There’s no problem,” Sam reassures looking like he’s just realized he may have caused offense. “We’ve just…we’ve been pretty much over at Bobby’s part of the Pole, and his office is not like this. This is…festive.”

“Festive is kinda what we do. You call Santa Bobby?” I ask. I mean I know, theoretically Santa has a name just like Krampus is not actually Crowley’s name, I’ve just never heard ANYONE call him Bobby.

“Well, yeah,” says Dean. “You live with a guy long enough and see him watching 90210 in his boxers, and Santa just doesn’t fit.”

“Hmm,” I say as I make my way to my desk and take a seat. I gesture to the red and green velvet seats situated in front on my desk. “Well, this is a pretty typical office for this side of the Pole. The non-winged beings would have ladders or stairs if they have ceilings this high, but I don’t need them, so why waste the space.”

I drop the file on my ledger and open the computer to see what adjustments I’ll need to make. Oh, chestnuts! The fairy assigned to the route currently is Alex. She’s competent but new, and will definitely take offense at being reassigned. What a pain.

“You have it!” Dean gasps and leaps off from the chair, striding up past my desk so he’s at the wall to my back. He fingers the charm hanging on my wall. The one he made so many years ago. I smile softly at the fondness on his face.

Until I realize that with him standing and me sitting, my face is level with his…He’s Santa’s son, he’s Santa’s son, he calls him Bobby, for sugarplum sake. Stop it! I raise my eyes back to his face. This is not better. My wings flutter, and Dean’s eyes move from the amulet to my wings. I force them still.

“Well, yeah,” my voice is breathy, but doesn’t squeak so win-win. “It was an impressive piece of charm work. No one has ever done that. It took us quite some time to figure out how you did it.”

Dean laughs, and it is lovely. I sigh.

“Probably warped thinking by not enough food, too little sleep, a knowledge of the supernatural world, and too many Christmas songs. Add a dash of desperation, and a can-do attitude and, well, it worked.”

“Yes, it did.”

“I’m glad it did,” says Sam.

I completely forgot he was there.

“You’ve been good for Santa too,” I say. “He was much grumpier before you came around. Don’t get me wrong, he was always caring, but there was a part of him that was missing something. You helped make his house a home, as cliché as it sounds.”

“Alright, enough of that,” Dean grumbles. He runs his finger down the length of the chain one more time, but leaves it in place as he returns to his seat.

“Dean can’t handle ‘chick flick moments,’” Sam teases.

It takes me an hour to re-route several fairies to make the routes work, Amelia’s covered, and the Gemini solidly in my zone. I think the fact that I’m moving several fairies will make it easier dealing with Alex. While I work Sam peppers me with questions on how our powers actually work and what the protocol is once we enter the house. He knows much of this since I know he has some charms and spells ready to go, but I correct some misinformation and fill in some gaps.

Dean interjects several times with pointed questions all focusing on defense and the Hell Hounds. He knows quite a lot about Krampus, but hasn’t spent any time in the field. I’ve been through a lot more Christmases than he has and have more insight into Crowley from…ahem, personal experience.

“Juliet?” Dean asks, incredulous.

“He does love her,” I reply.

Our division is responsible for keeping the children Santa visits asleep. No matter how hard they try to stay awake, no child ever does.

That’s not by accident.

Our magic puts them to sleep until Santa is safely away. Nothing will wake them while Santa is there, not sleigh bells, footsteps on the roof or the random cursing Santa sometimes does while dealing with unwieldy gifts. The pleasant candy filled dreams often associated with our magic are the reason our kind is nicknamed Sugar Plum Fairies.

The fairy responsible for the Winchester’s motel that night swore both children were asleep when he left. Turns out Dean was just pretending. His charm had blocked all effects. It had never happened before, and will never happen again. Power relies on faith. Kids actually seeing Santa ruins that. Besides, I take great pride in my work.

By the time dinner comes around we have a solid plan, and Sam is anxious to hit the books and perfect his protection. Dean on the other hand…

“So, I’ve never been to this side of the Pole.” Dean holds out his arm for me to take. “Give me the tour?”

I slip my arm through his and can’t help but feel the impressively large bicep. I nearly whimper, but don’t. I’m an adult, darn it! I can keep my head about me and my wings silent!

We head to the dining hall, and I point out the various divisions we pass. He’s especially amused by the wrapping department, probably because Harry and Ed have managed to completely tie themselves together with ribbons, which they are desperately trying to untangle while their supervisor slides down the wall in defeat.

Time passes quickly and easily. As we talk my nerves fade. Dean is charming, amusing and intelligent. He’s friendly and open, though the topics are fairly light. I learn about what it was like to grow up with Santa as a father, but we go no further back in time than that.

“Stop it!” snaps a deep voice as we arrive to where the nativity practice is taken place.

“You have to look festive, Cassie!” says Gabriel, as he throws a handful of glitter on Castiel’s now visible black wings.

“Why can’t you just do this?” Castiel grumbles. “I wasn’t even there. You were.”

“I was not there! I had a date with Kali that night, and I was not blowing it off. Dad’s birth or no. My part was already done by this point. Angelic pregnancy test, check! Then a little drum roll please, Joseph you are…not the father! And my part was over.”

“I don’t see why I need glitter, this isn’t even the dress rehearsal. I don’t want to do this.”

“Cherubs, Cassie. Naked, hugging Cherubs.”

“Proceed.”

“Heya, Cas,” calls Dean, laughter clear in his voice.

“Hello, Dean,” says Castiel. If he’s more embarrassed being spotted by someone he knows, it’s not clear. I’m not sure he can look more miserable than he does now anyway.

“Cas is the leader of a garrison in Heaven,” Dean whispers into my ear. His breath moves my hair and chills run up my spine. “This is awesome!”

I laugh, and Dean seems pleased. We both smile at each other.

“The angels take turns,” I say. “and believe it or not, this is considered an honor. Only the highest ranking angels get to do this.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure Cas feels that way.”

“Well, Gabriel doesn’t make it easy.”

We watch for a few more minutes while Castiel suffers, Gabriel looks absolutely gleeful and various elves finish decorations and wrangling animals. When we part ways I’m walking on air. All reminders that Dean is Santa’s son, that he’s not a fairy, and that I am a thousand years older are wiped away.

Thankfully I do have enough brain power to remember to hit my office before I go home, but when I put the key in and go to turn the knob, the door doesn’t budge. Locked? That means I left it unlocked. I never leave my office unlocked.

~***~

“I swear, Amelia,” I say, rocking baby Claire in my arms, and speaking in a sing-song voice. “I just want to suck his candy cane, yes I do.”

Amelia laughs.

“He’s not a child anymore,” she says. “Have you been with anyone since Crowley?”

“Don’t remind me,” I say. “Not more than a one night stand here and there.”

I try to remember the last time. I can’t, but I have a vague sense of mediocrity. Thank all things sweet and good that batteries are a thing.

“Go for it,” she says. “You deserve it.”

“He’s Santa’s son,” I remind her. “That could be catastrophic.”

“Do you really think Santa would take it out on you if something went wrong? You didn’t worry about it when you dated Crowley, and he’s Krampus!”

“True.”

“Besides, no one is talking relationship. I’m just saying to take him for a ride.”

“You’re awful!” I say, thinking the opposite as I hand over a sleeping Claire. “I’ve got to go.”

“Good luck with the code Gemini,” Amelia says, more serious now. “Stay safe.”

“I’ll be fine. Heck, I’ve pet Juliet before, and Crowley wouldn’t hurt me. Besides I have a bodyguard,” I flutter my wings and my eyelashes.

“Let him guard it up close and personal,” says Amelia, her smile back in place.

“Safety first,” I say mock seriously.

~***~

The twelve days go quickly and it finds me spending more and more with the Winchesters, especially Dean. I try to enforce my own rest schedule seeing as I’m going into the field myself, but I find the eldest Winchester to be a tempting distraction. I figure it’s good for my magic. Still, I manage to hit the spa a few times and take some naps. I feel full powered and despite, or maybe because, of all the precautions we’re taking, the Gemini situation doesn’t feel dangerous. By the time the end of year celebration starts I’m feeling fantastic.

“Merry, merry, Jovie,” comes the whisper at my ear. Chills again.

“Merry, merry, Dean,” I say, turning to find a very close solid body of Christmas cheer in my path. How have I not put a star atop that yet? My self-control is amazing.

“Wow,” says Sam, sidling up, hands in his pockets looking smug. “I never thought I’d hear you say that, Dean.”

“Shut up, Samantha,” growls Dean. “Just because some of us can’t embrace the local culture doesn’t mean others, more enlightened, handsome brothers, can’t.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

“Ok then,” I say, my eyebrows raised.

“Just a brother thing,” says Dean, smile firmly in place. “Nothing to worry about.”

“I’m going to find a seat,” says Sam, his eyes already wandering over the crowd.

“Uh huh,” mumbles Dean. “He’s got a thing for an elf in wrapping. Jess I think? Curly blond hair?”

“Yeah, Jess,” I confirm. “She’s a sweetheart. Annnnd he found her.”

“Good,” Dean says, after snickering at the expression of pure joy on Sam’s face. “Now I can focus on something else.”

We’re standing way too close. I lick my lips. His eyes trace the movement, which makes my wings flutter, and my stomach twist. His eyes flick to my wings, and he smirks. Maybe he knows more about wing movement than I think. Of course we have spent a lot of time together recently, and he is a smart one.

“Come on,” he says, and holds out a hand, ostensibly to lead me through the crowd. His calloused hand envelopes mine, and my wings clatter together again. I really need to get that under control.

The celebration, including the nativity, is a huge success. Everyone is feeling the joy and energy of a Christmas well prepared for. The food is incredible, as usual, the eggnog spiked too strong, also as usual, but the company this year is something special.

We call it a night before it’s too late, since Santa and my fairies all have jobs to do tomorrow, but even still, I’m tipsy by the time we leave the party. The fact that it’s “we” makes me ridiculously happy, and there are so many reasons I shouldn’t do this, especially the night before Christmas, but I find twelve days of pent up sexual tension too much to ignore especially with Holiday Spirit and alcohol loosening the way.

I lead Dean back to my room, and he follows so closely behind I feel his warmth touching my wings. We make it to the final corridor before Dean presses me against the wall, slotting between my wings. His hands are on my hips, his lips at my neck, and I push my hips back to feel his hardness press against the cleft of my ass. We both groan.

For a moment I wonder how much he’s had to drink and if I’m taking advantage. He didn’t seem tipsy at all, and I remind myself that he is an adult. And then I don’t care anymore because Dean is sliding his hands up my waist, cupping my breasts and grinding into my ass. His tongue is doing amazing things, and I whimper.

“We’re almost there. Bed,” I whisper.

“Yeah. Bed. Let’s do that.”

But he only pulls away far enough to spin me so my back is against the wall, he’s careful to give me time to adjust my wings, but then he’s pressing into me and for the first time ever our lips touch. His tongue dives right in, and I grab the back of his neck to urge him closer. The kiss is strong and dominating. The perfect amount of pressure and tongue, and oh holy night, I need him inside me right now.

I jump up and finally, finally climb that boy, hooking my legs around his waist, his hands come up under my thighs to hold me up. And then I can feel him straining against the zipper on his jeans. The rough texture rubbing against my clit is making this already way more exciting than my last fling. My arms are around his neck and our breaths are coming heavy and fast.

Through the haze of arousal I’m barely aware of voices coming up the stairs. I pull my head back to tell Dean that we need to move, but he kisses down my neck and latches on, and I’m suddenly having trouble remembering why having sex in front of my colleagues is a bad idea.

Somehow I manage to adult and breathe out, “Third door on the right.”

He moves his head far enough to see, but doesn’t let go of my thighs, so I’ve decided I’ve been the responsible one long enough for now, and use what leverage I have to grind against that very hard cock.

“Holy fuck,” he mutters.

“Tis the season,” I say before sucking an ear lobe into my mouth.

He finds my door, and I reluctantly let go of one hand to use my key to unlock my door. We tumble in when it slams open, but Dean is good and keeps us from falling. He kicks the door shut without ever looking back, and I’m not even going to pretend that’s not hot.

A few more fumbled steps that would probably go quicker if we stopped kissing, and we’re at my bedroom. We fall to my bed, my wings splay wide so I can lay flat on my back, and Dean immediately starts grinding against me. One hand is already up my shirt and when he squeeze my nipple, my hips press up.

I tug at his shirt, “Off.”

He leans back on to his knees and pulls off his shirt, revealing abs to die for, and a star tattoo I recognize as a protection symbol. There’s a trail of hair disappearing beneath his belt buckle that I am suddenly desperate to follow. I tug at his buckle, and he takes over stripping as I do the same.

In moments we’re both naked, our hips are flush, and his lips are on mine, just where they belong. His hand traces up my thigh, and he pulls back his hips just far enough for his fingers to graze me.

“Tell me this is ok,” he says.

“Yes.”

His fingers are inside me before I finish the word, the stretch beautiful, and yeah, it’s way too long since I’ve done this. Why don’t I do this all the time? He crooks his fingers, and I’m no longer capable of rational thought.

I find his cock, heavy and hot, in my hand while his fingers fuck into me, and stroke it. There’s wetness at the tip, and I want it in my mouth immediately, but then his fingers do that thing again, and I just want more now. I’m suddenly making a list of all the things I’ve pretended I wasn’t fantasizing about, and if I die trying I promise this is not going to be a one time thing.

“Now, now, now.” I buck my hips up and spread my legs wider, but he ignores my not so subtle signaling, and rubs his thumb against my clit while those magic finger still work inside me. I let him continue for a few moments more before I am absolutely desperate. I grab what hair I can and pull his head to look at me. “Fuck me now, Winchester.”

His eyes widen in surprise, and then his smiling is blinding. “Yes, ma’am.”

Finally, finally, finally, his cock slides home and wow, he is freaking huge, and perfect and oh fuck, right there. I arch my back, and he shifts so that his hands are on my hips. He yanks me back on to him, and oh, fuck yes. His thrusts are hard and sharp, and hitting that perfect spot. The snap against my skin is sharp, and he take every few to grind against me so my clit is getting in on the action.

“You gonna come for me?” He grunts. “I think you’re close, aren’t you?”

I whine and push back against him as much as I can, meeting his thrusts as much as possible with hands still holding my hips.

He must take that as incentive because he speeds up impossibly faster, and I am so close, so freaking close. Please, please, please, fuck!

My muscles lock down, my toes curl, and I know my mouth is open in a silent scream as my orgasm washes over me.

It seems to last forever, and when I fall back against the bed limp, he follows, his lips on mine, tongue pressing in and taking. I let him control the kiss, take whatever he wants, because I am blissfully spent. His hips move slowly at first, and then move faster, until he’s not kissing me anymore, just panting and moaning in my ear.

It is the best sound in the world when he comes, a deep groan, that sends shivers down my spine. He presses his hips further in, and I lock my legs around his waist. Holding him tight with what little muscle control I still have. He sags against me, but keeps his weight on his forearms so he doesn’t crush me, before rolling over so that I’m laying on his chest as we both steady our breathing. His now soft cock slips out, and I already miss it. Yeah, we’re doing this again.

I hope.

“Where’s your bathroom?” he asks. I point vaguely, and he laughs. I watch his perfect ass the entire way until he’s out of sight, and I close my eyes. I can’t even find it in myself to wonder if Santa will be pissed in my post coital bliss.

There’s wet warmth between my legs before I even notice he’s back. He licks delicately at my slit before pressing a kiss to my way over-sensitized clit. I jump, but he just smiles and backs off. He cleans me up with a wet washcloth, which I find incredibly endearing, and we’re both smiling like idiots by the time he snuggles back against me.

We don’t discuss whether he’s staying or not, but when I wake up Christmas Eve morning he’s still there.

~***~

Sam does not look impressed when Dean is wearing the same clothes as the day before, and I wonder if it’s a reflection on me for a moment. Maybe he’s not happy with his brother getting up close and friendly with a fairy. Maybe he thinks I took advantage of his older brother.

Oh, my ginger snap, does he think that? I’m so worked up I’m almost ready to apologize when Sam smiles warmly at me and greets me, normal as ever. Dean catches my eye and winks, and I relax.

Ok, ok, no problem.

We part to make final preparations. Sam and Dean always see Santa off before his flight and they want to do that this year as well, despite the fact that they too are going into the field this year. I give my fairies a pep talk and send them on their routes. Alex had not taken the changes personally, and the drama I was worried about never materialized.

In no time I’m meeting Sam and Dean in transportation. The boys have never traveled this way before, and I hope they handle it well. The room is awash in glowing sparkles and light while fairies are dispatched across the world. Sam and Dean will accompany me on my entire route, which will give them some practice with the routine in houses that are solely marked for Santa before we get to the Gemini situation. We’re fairly sure their time in the Pole has made them immune to my sleep magic, but Sam has drawn on sigils of warding on both their skins just in case. The markings are based on the charm Dean made as a child.

Sam steps forward as we wait our turn, but Dean grabs my elbow and holds me back for a second. I look at him questioningly.

“I just want to say,” he starts. He runs his hand through his hair and then drops it again. “I don’t know how you feel about it, and maybe it was just a one time thing or, just a Holiday energy surge or whatever but, I was hoping…if you want to…to uh, maybe continue. What we started I mean. I mean, not just in bed. Or sex, I mean...”

I put my finger across his lips before he can hurt himself.

“I was hoping that after tonight we can talk about maybe seeing where this goes,” I volunteer. His bumbling making me much more comfortable.

“Dating? You want to date me?” he asks.

“I’d like to…”

“Yeah,” he grins. “Me too.”

“Guys?” asks Sam, looking puzzled to not see us immediately behind us.

“Coming, Sammy,” Dean says. He takes my hand and says, “Let’s get this show on the road.”

~***~

Dean does not enjoy portal transportation. Sam looks a little green, but Dean is swearing adamantly that he will find a way to drive back to the north pole regardless of how long it take him to return. Thankfully he handles my magical transport a bit better or this would be a very long night.

In order to complete Christmas in one night Santa has to split temporally and physically. He exists in many places at once at the same time and runs on a temporal system faster than the one we’re functioning under. One supercharged, multiplied Santa means many fairies working at once. The system is timed absolutely so that no child is ever awake when Santa visits.

By the fifth house both Dean and Sam are feeling normal and have gotten into the groove of things. They find it fascinating to see my magic work, and I let them peak into the dreams of some of the children I put under. I’ve missed being in the field. The innocence is beautiful.

At the seventh house we intersect with Santa’s route. We watch through a blur of movement as Santa travels a different timeline. Presents appear, bells jingle, and we watch Santa in his official gear make Christmas magic.

“You know I never believed in Santa as a kid,” whispers Dean. The occupants of the house are all magically asleep, but the mood makes whispers appropriate. As if this delicate bubble will fragment with a normal voice.

“I didn’t know that,” Sam says.

“Yeah, well. I wanted you to believe,” Dean says. “I always thought, no matter whatever crap Dad put us through, there was always a few gifts at Christmas time, whether we had a tree or not, so he still had moments of being a good dad. We never missed a Christmas. It wasn’t him at all though.”

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“It’s ok. He was never the same after Mom died. It just would have been nice if we were enough.”

Sam slings an arm over Dean’s shoulder as we watch Santa work. I feel like I’m intruding on the moment, but I feel honored to witness it. Finally Santa is done. He tips his hat, the official one, at us before he’s gone.

We arrive at the Gemini house, and my stomach twists. I know what Crowley—Krampus does. And it is for a good cause. Children bad enough to warrant a visit are on a dark road and one night of torturous snow globe existence is often enough to put them back on the straight and narrow. They don’t remember any of the visit, just that feeling in the morning that they. Must. Be. Good.

Still, I don’t want to see it, because Krampus houses are not put to sleep. The child has to know it’s coming.

We enter the home and my magic starts to spread. It’s tricky isolating it instead of just letting is flow throughout the house. One child must sleep, pleasantly and peacefully while the other can be awoken normally. My magic wants to spread, it wants to cover both children, and I fight it. It’s a good thing I’m the one covering this home. This is not an easy task and a less experienced fairy would not be able to do this. Never mind whether they can stomach the job at all. I may need therapy after this.

The scent of rotting meat enters the home.

“He’s coming,” says Dean, a blade appears in his hand. Sam has spells at the ready. I’m not supposed to be here when the hounds arrive. I’ve already checked on our child, I couldn’t bare to look at the other. Now we’re standing in a circle of salt, waiting, while I struggle to control my magic.

“Circle’s complete. We’re fine,” says Sam.

Crowley enters the home. No, not Crowley. Krampus.

The black suit is gone, so is the handsome face. Now it’s fur and fangs, a tongue that whips out overly long and pointed. Horns that reach for the sky and a cloak of death and blood. Ruby and Meg don’t even pretend to be individuals. They swirl and glide and stretch across the walls and ceilings. Glowing eyes here and there.

“Fuck,” says Sam.

“Are we still ok?” asks Dean.

“Yeah, yeah…just…fuck,” says Sam.

This is all for the greater good. It’s just fear. The child will be safe. I remind myself over and over again. Krampus is flanked by hell hounds. One of them is Juliet. I think it’s the one on the right, but they’re in work mode now, and I never realized how different that was. I decide I was completely naïve to think there was no risk here.

Krampus makes a gesture and the hounds race away. It’s moments later until the scream starts. No, not scream. Screams! More than one.

“I thought he was asleep,” says Dean.

“He was. He should be,” I stammer. “My magic is working.”

I push it harder, but I know it’s not going to have any effect. Something is wrong.

“Shit!” Dean breaks the circle and Sam follows, but they stop at the bottom of the stairs before slowly backing away. The screams and cries are coming closer. The hounds are dragging the children down the stairs.

“Only one of them is yours!” I yell.

“And I’m only taking one,” says Krampus. His voice is still that British growl I always loved, but it echoes slightly now.

The hounds let go of our child while the other is herded closer to Krampus. Meg and Ruby arch high over, slithering around and up, touching the child before drifting back. They are the living shadows of nightmares.

“Quinn!” yells our child.

“Help me!” Quinn yells back.

My heart is breaking. This is awful.

I race over to Joshua, our child, and one hound nips at my thigh as I pass before Dean slashes at it with a knife redirecting its attention. I hold the child close, fighting to keep him in place while I try to force my magic into him. To make him sleep and dream and forget and not bare witness to his brother’s punishment. Sam draws a new circle around us and starts painting sigils on the floor but nothing is helping. The child in my arms screams.

Krampus has Quinn with one hand now. With the other he pulls out a snow globe. With one touch Quinn is gone, trapped in the globe.

“Quinn!” screams Joshua.

The hounds redirect their attention now that their ward is safely trapped, and Dean keeps guard between us and them. Joshua lunges forward and my grip loosens before holding him fast safe in the circle. That’s when I see it.

A chain around his neck. A familiar chain. I can’t let go of him or he’ll break the circle, willing to risk himself to save his brother. This determination and goodness is why he’s one of ours. What happened to make his brother so different?

“Sam,” I call. “He’s wearing Dean’s charm. You have to take it off.”

“What?” snaps Dean. He turns to look at us and the hounds press their advantage. He barely turns back in time.

“I got it,” says Sam, pulling the chain over the struggling child’s head. Once it’s off, I focus my magic harder than I ever have before and Joshua slumps quiet and still in my arms. I pet his head and try to rewrite history in his mind, but his dreams are nightmares, and I’m hoping I can fix it.

“What are you playing it?” growls Dean.

“Just trying to extend my power,” says Krampus. “You see, they never remember. My children. They never remember me, and so few believe. Not like Santa. Everyone believes in Santa.”

“You took that from my office,” I say. My voice is straining as I work my magic. These nightmares are strong. I’m not sure I can make him forget.

“Shouldn’t have left your door unlocked,” says Krampus. “Shouldn’t have been so…distracted. Really Jovie? A human, after you’ve had this?”

“What? You and Krampus?” asks Dean, and I am both embarrassed and defensive at the same time.

“It was hundreds of years ago, and no not Krampus, Crowley,” I say.

“Well…maybe parts of me were Krampus.”

“Not helping,” I say.

“Also, not the issue at hand,” says Sam. “You can’t do this. If you wanted to expand your influence it should have been addressed at the meeting.”

“They would have said no. You’ve seen the old gods,” Krampus says, as he swirls the snow globe. Droplets of red move around the inside instead of snow. “Desperate for what they’ve lost. They can barely tolerate sharing what there is now.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you did this. Why you traumatized some kid who was not on your list,” says Dean.

“Of course it does, moron,” says Krampus. “A good child will remember what he saw. He’ll tell others.”

“That’s not faith,” I say. I might be making progress on the nightmares, but I’m not sure.

“No, but it will be faith in the others. I just need a few witnesses. Now, it’s started. You might as well stop trying, Jovie. Tick-tock. You have other houses to hit tonight, and that one’s asleep. Well done.”

“I won’t leave till he doesn’t remember,” I say, but I’m scared. I have to be at those other houses. If Santa gets there first we’ll have bigger problems than one child’s nightmares. Besides the hell hounds are circling and nipping. They want blood. Mine in particular.

“Then I guess we need to work fast,” says Dean, and he attacks. Sam jumps out of the circle without breaking the line, and Dean hands him a weapon. The hounds are lunging, snarling monsters. Krampus whispers into the snow globe ignoring the mayhem, while Meg and Ruby reach towards me and the sleeping child.

Sam gets thrown back and my magic falters as his weight falls on to me. I pull myself away from him as he gets up and returns to the fight. I think I’m pushing the nightmares back. They’re fading. The memories turning into dream. There’s a sharp pain at my leg before a yelp, and I pull it back.

And then I’m drowning in darkness. A hundred, a thousand times worse than the nightmares Joshua was having before. They are all around, and I distantly realize that Sam broke the circle when he fell. I scream.

I hold on to Joshua trying to protect his fragile mind even while I fear I will lose mine, and then there is a blinding light. Everything releases.

I slump to the ground, panting. The room is a mess, but Krampus, the hounds, Meg and Ruby are all gone. The glowing of a spent sigil is the only light. A snow globe lays still on the floor.

Dean staggers to his feet and comes to check on me, even as I’m pulling myself back together. I push my magic hard, and struggle for a moment with the taint of darkness before that normal sense of peace returns. With Krampus and his shadows gone, my magic is stronger. I wipe Joshua’s mind and replace it with all the pleasant dreams he’s supposed to have. He won’t remember Krampus. He won’t remember the fear or dread.

Sam performs another spell and the snow globe disappears, Quinn reappearing where it lay.

“Is he alright?” Dean asks.

“I think so,” says Sam. “He’s sleeping.”

“He should be fine,” I say. “That part of things was normal. He’ll wake up tomorrow wanting to be good more than anything, but he won’t remember what happened with Krampus.”

“How about him?” Dean asks.

“Good now,” I say. And he is. Everything feels normal.

We put both boys to bed, and I make sure one more time that Joshua is ok. His dreams are sweetness and light. Perfect.

Sam is prepared for everything and the room is clean and perfect again in no time. The smears of blood are gone. The ash and smoke from the banishment are clear and the house looks like a normal house once again.

“Are you alright?” Dean asks. One hand cups my face, and I cover it with my own.

“Yeah,” I say. “There’s a cut on my leg, from Juliet I think. But I’d take that again anytime over the rest.” I shudder and my wings clatter together. I sigh and let my head drop against the wall. I look up and it must be the shock that sends me into hysterics because once I start laughing I can’t stop.

“You sure you’re ok?” Dean asks.

I nod my head and struggle to stop laughing. I know it’s not funny, but I can’t help it. My laughter is high pitched and wrong.

I point to the ceiling.

“It’s real,” I gasp, and Dean looks up at the mistletoe hanging above us.

“Frigga would be happy,” he says, and leans in to kiss me. The kiss does what my self-control could not, and my hysterical laughter stops and calms. His lips are soothing and we let the kiss remain leisurely and comforting.

“Merry Christmas, Jovie,” Dean says.

“Merry Christmas, Dean.”


End file.
